


Room

by mechaieh (ribbons)



Category: FAKE (Manga)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-13
Updated: 2008-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbons/pseuds/mechaieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover with The Dark Is Rising. Bikky's at New York East in the middle of the night. So's Bran Davies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room

**Author's Note:**

> Grateful thanks to Geri-chan for beta-ing this!
> 
> Written for edenbound

 

 

As he walked down the hallway of NY East's third floor, Bikky thought to himself, _The problem with hospitals is that they're too friggin' noisy_. Even during the middle of the night, there was an incessant stream of pages crackling through the in-room intercom speakers, and the machines dispensing drugs to the patients kept beeping and buzzing and sometimes even honking. There were hushed conversations among visitors and staff members who weren't nearly as quiet as they were trying to be, and sometimes a door was left open to a room where a patient was moaning or wheezing or snoring or watching TV, and -- well, Bikky didn't see how anyone got any sleep at all unless they were either too exhausted to stay awake or if they'd been sedated.

Bikky pushed open the door to the stairwell, heading towards the first floor bank of vending machines. He wanted a sandwich and a coffee to tide him through the next couple of hours, having figured he might as well get some long-overdue grading done -- he couldn't nap and he didn't want to leave Ryo alone, even though his own shift at Ochoa Junior High would start up again in less than five hours. Bikky grinned to himself: his countless self-sleep-deprived nights during his own schooldays had been good practice for his current schedule, although they'd been spent exploring the city rather than taking care of his foster father. At twenty-five years old, he was still young enough to average less than five hours of sleep a night and still keep up with the brats he coached and taught, but he was also now old enough to refrain from razzing Dee about losing the ability to skate by on a similar ratio of sleep, caffeine, and nicotine: it didn't take detective skills to see that Dee would find a way to stay awake 24/7 if he ever imagined that doing so would help Ryo get better faster.

Bikky's vigil was as much for Dee's sake as for Ryo's: they'd never explicitly discussed it, but he knew that it somehow helped Dee stay glued together, knowing that Bikky was with Ryo whenever Dee had to work nights. Carol's job allowed her to telecommute from anywhere, so the weekday shift was hers -- between her and Dee, the apartment stayed as clean as it would have if Ryo had been his healthy, persnickety self. 

It was a bitch, dealing with cancer, but Ryo was going to beat it. _He had to._ Bikky had an idea of what Dee might be like if he lost Ryo, and he was nowhere near ready to cope with that, never mind how devastated he himself would feel. Fortunately, the latest rounds of radiation seemed to be turning things around: Ryo was still scarily gaunt and frail, and they were in the hospital this time because his immune system hadn't been able to handle the flu going around without intravenous assistance, but he was also still loving and kind and stubborn, and he'd informed both Bikky and Dee in no uncertain terms that he wasn't done with either of them yet. 

Bikky swiped a hand over his eyes as the memory momentarily threatened to overwhelm him. He had reached the vending machine with the sandwiches, and he scowled upon seeing its lack of choices (three egg salads and a single tuna -- the rows labeled "roast beef," "turkey," "ham," and "chicken" all sat empty). 

A strangely-accented voice behind him grumbled, " _City that never sleeps_ , my arse. This place is larger than where I went to university -- why doesn't it have an all-night cafeteria?"

"It used to have one," Bikky said, addressing the man's ghostly reflection on the glass of the sandwich machine. "Budget cuts."

The man raised his eyebrows. "You're a regular here? Rough luck."

Bikky shrugged. "Both of my dads are cops. People sometimes want them out of the way."

"Fathers can be a problem," the man said, grimacing. 

Bikky turned around to face the stranger, and blinked. He'd assumed the man's bleached reflection was due to the machine's plexiglass and the poor lighting in the lounge. It was a shock to see that the chalk-white hair and skin were real. 

The man's tawny eyes were as wide as Bikky felt his own to be. The stranger took in the combination of Bikky's blond hair, blue eyes, and black skin, and eventually said, "New York City is larger than Wales. Were you merely exotic, or did your teachers and neighbours treat you like the spawn of the devil?"

Bikky couldn't help grinning as he answered, "I caught plenty of shit because of the freaky hair, but I was also hell on wheels. Ryo caught a lot of flak for not just shipping me off somewhere."

"Ryo," the man repeated, trying out the unfamiliar name. "Short for what -- Rowan? Rogan? R.O.?"

Bikky's grin widened. "It's just 'Ryo.' He's half-Japanese."

The man squinted at Bikky. "What's his other half? I can't say I see any Asian in you."

Bikky laughed outright. "There isn't any. He took me in when I was ten." He ran a hand through his hair. "I have no idea if there was any Scottish in my mom -- that would be Ryo's dad's side. Dee -- that's my other dad -- he never knew his parents at all. They dumped him when he was a baby and he grew up in an orphanage."

The albino man winced. "That's... well, my mother left my father before I was born. Then she left me with another man, and I grew up thinking _he_ was my father." His lips twisted. "He tried his best, but there's a lot he never got, and a lot he doesn't feel he needs to get."

Bikky snorted. "Don't tell me you're the type who wants to tell his parents everything?"

"Hardly," the man said, "but I'd let myself hope he'd be okay with me being with Will."

Bikky looked sharply at the man. "Is 'Will' -- that's who you're here for?"

The man nodded warily, uncertain what to make of Bikky's tone.

Bikky turned to one of the beverage machines, fed a dollar into it, and punched the button for tea. When the cup ejected from the machine was full, he handed it to the stranger.

Instead of accepting the tea, the man said, "Why?"

Bikky placed the cup on the nearest table and pointed the man to a seat. "Where's Will from?" He turned again to the beverage machine without waiting for the man's answer.

"England," the man said. He said the word with a slight, affectionate sneer to it that reminded Bikky of the way Dee said "Los Angeles."

"I was there once," Dee said, who had appeared in the doorway as the machine dispensed Bikky's coffee. "Worst vacation ever." Dee walked up to Bikky, greeting him with a routine thump on the back. "Ryo must be doing okay if you're down here jawing away."

"I didn't think I'd be down here this long," Bikky admitted. "All I wanted was a sandwich."

Dee followed Bikky's gaze to the paltry offerings in the sandwich machine and frowned accordingly. "Man, they could hire a chef for what they're charging for these things." He looked at Bikky and then at Bran, his eyes piercingly perceptive in spite of his rumpled hair and shirt. "You both look like you need some fresh air. Go borrow a couple of bikes and head to Big Nick's. Bring back a combo Sicilian for me."

As Dee slapped a couple of bills into Bikky's palm, Bikky said, "Aren't you still on shift?"

Dee nodded toward a crate of files sitting at the entrance. "Drake said he'd cover everything back at the station if I'd plow through his backlog of reports."

Bikky gaped. "You? Paperwork? Does not compute!"

Dee simply stated, "It's something I can do while sitting with Ryo. Go get your damn food before your pal faints from hunger."

The stranger bristled. "I'm not about to--"

"He always talks like that, just ignore him," Bikky said. "C'mon, let's go before he gets a call, or Drake wises up, or --" he paused. "Do you need to stay here regardless? Are you waiting on an update from surgery or something?"

The stranger shook his head. "No, nothing like that. He's just sleeping right now -- they're sedating him for a couple of days until the pain eases up. And I didn't want to pay for another night in a hotel, but there's always such a bloody racket here--"

"Then a ride through Manhattan is exactly what you need," Dee declared. "It'll tire you out enough to pass out when you get back. So scram already -- no, wait, first gimme your cell number. Just in case the twerp collides into trouble--" Dee tossed his phone at the white-haired man, who neatly fielded it. After a moment's hesitation, he began to enter his name and number into the keypad.

Bikky growled, "This _twerp_ has been taller than you for more than ten years now."

Dee grinned. "You'll always be younger and a lot more stupid." He parried Bikky's halfhearted swing, stretching out his other arm to catch the phone. He peered at the display. "Bran Davies," he read aloud. "Nice to meet you, Bran."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Bran replied. "You're one of, ah, this one's dads?" he asked, gesturing in Bikky's direction. 

Dee smirked as Bikky belatedly introduced himself. As the two lighter-haired men shook hands, Dee said, "He gets his ditziness from Ryo."

"Only if I get to blame you when I'm a dumbass," Bikky retorted.

"Does that mean he gets the credit when you're a champion dumbass?" Bran cheekily enquired, his smirk matching Dee's.

Dee laughed out loud and said to Bran, "Dude, you're all right." 

Bikky flipped his middle fingers at both of them, but he then said to Dee, "Glad you think so, 'cause he's gonna be staying in your guestroom."

Bran said, "Now wait a minute--" 

Dee said to Bran, "It's more of a closet than a guestroom, but you're welcome to it." He shot Bikky an approving look. "Good going, kiddo."

Bran said to them both, "You don't _know_ me--"

"Nyet, but we're both good judges of character," Dee said. "Survival skill."

"Yeah, but you're losing your grip, old man," Bikky said. "Two compliments in a row? Be still my beating heart."

"Gimme that," Dee said, commandeering Bikky's cup of coffee. "Off you go. I need to get back to Ryo."

"Roger that," Bikky said, pulling Bran to his feet. 

Bran tried to protest, "I don't--"

Bikky made an impatient gesture. "Look. You need a place to sleep. I don't care how pale you usually are -- you don't look well. Your Will doesn't need you getting sick on top of whatever's happened."

Visibly hating how fragile he sounded, Bran said, "When you put it that way--"

"Dude, you'll be okay," Dee said. "You'll have a better grip on whatever you have to do after you get in a real meal and some solid z's." 

Something about Dee's matter-of-fact sympathy did the trick: Bran ceased attempting to object and let himself follow Bikky out to the concrete island next to the hospital where the bike rack was stationed. His eyes widened as Bikky whipped out a pocketknife from his pocket and swiftly picked the locks on two of the ten-speeds. 

Bikky grinned at Bran's shocked expression. "Don't worry, we're just borrowing them. These two have been sitting here for ages. I bet they're New Years' resolutions gone bad -- I've seen it at the precinct, too. People swear they're going to get out more -- ride around during lunch, work off their holiday weight -- and then the bikes stay put until they get around to selling them."

Bran stared at the bike Bikky had pushed toward him, and then his face broke into a genuine smile. "You're right. It'd be a shame not to get a good ride out of these." He swung his leg over the seat and squeezed the brakes experimentally before glancing back at Bikky. "Well? What are we waiting for?" 

Bikky laughed at Bran's teasing, imperious tone. _Oh, you_ are _a character. I'm gonna like getting to know you better._ He cheerfully yelled, "We aren't!" as he shot past Bran on the bike he'd quickly mounted. 

He heard a delighted hoot behind him as the Welshman furiously pedaled to catch up. By the time he rounded the corner, Bran was practically at his shoulder. 

_He'll be fun to race once he knows the city a bit better,_ Bikky thought. "Next turn will be right, six blocks up," he called out.

He caught a flash of white teeth in the white face as Bran shouted back, "Meet you there!" and barreled ahead.

Bikky laughed again, enjoying both the wind on his face and the sensation of a good deed in motion. Then he leaned forward, urging his bike onwards as he closed in on the gap between him and Bran. 

 


End file.
